


Thirty Minutes is A Long Time...

by DaringlyDomestic



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 18:02:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7855393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaringlyDomestic/pseuds/DaringlyDomestic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There has been a lot of speculation around what happened in the thirty minutes between Sherlock's comment (on John's blog) about "borrowing" the bus and John's comment telling Sherlock to go get dressed. This is my take...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirty Minutes is A Long Time...

“Tilly Briggs pleasure cruise? Seriously, John? That is a gross exaggeration, even for you!”

“Wha-”

“Just because the man was a philandering gold-digger who drained his husband’s bank account in order to take the pool boy on a seven day cruise around the Mediterranean does not give you leave to take whatever poetic license you desire!”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with my _poetic license_ last night.”

“ _John!”_

“Well you didn’t! I seem to remember you liking my description of your ethereal body and extraordinary cheekbones...”

“What a wonderful demonstration of toxic hyperbole! Besides-”

“Besides, it’s your eyes I should really be going on about...and your byronic curls...”

“ _John._ ”

“Yes, my gorgeous man?”

“ _John!”_

 _“_ Problem?”

“There will be if you do not get over here and kiss me.”

“My pleasure,” John breathes as he closes the last few centimeters and brings their lips together. 

Sherlock glories in the sight of a half-naked John, wrapped in a towel from the waist down, hair askew, and pink-skinned from the heat of the water. John can feel the soft, smooth satin of Sherlock's dressing gown pressing against his own exposed skin as he pulls him closer to deepen the kiss.  

It still amazes John how carefree Sherlock is like this. The man is normally so carefully controlled. But when they are together, Sherlock feels  _everything_. And he lets John see. It's breath-taking. 

John growls, a deep, possessive sound that reverberates through his chest, as he sucks a livid bruise into Sherlock's collarbone. The detective leans into it and whimpers. His body undulates toward John, searching for friction, and Sherlock can't suppress the needy sounds of desperation pouring from his mouth. John smiles and moves to slide a muscular thigh between Sherlock's legs. He thrusts firmly and Sherlock moans at the pleasure that shoots through him. He clutches John's powerful biceps and leans heavily against the sitting room wall.

One of Sherlock's hands flashes down and draws the towel away from John's golden, compact body. John shivers as the colder flat air hits a very sensitive part of his body, but smirks as he solves the problem by pressing Sherlock back into the wall and wrapping a long pale thigh around his own waist, effectively aligning their cocks. 

He slides his hand up and down the smooth skin of Sherlock's thigh, hitching it slightly higher. John's other hand grasps at Sherlock's sweat-soaked curls as he licks his way into Sherlock's mouth. He chuckles into the kiss as Sherlock scrambles to undo the tie of his dressing gown. Not waiting for Sherlock to take it all the way off, he gently places Sherlock's leg back on the ground and sinks to his knees. 

Sherlock's eyes go wide with arousal and anticipation, but John takes his time nipping and sucking his way up Sherlock's other, heretofore ignored, thigh. By the time John's mouth is sucking a bruise into Sherlock's iliac crest, the detective is begging and dripping pre-come onto John's chest. 

"John," he gasps. "Please? I...I-I need...oh god...please?"

John takes a moment to revel in the sight of Sherlock undone. His cheeks are ruddy with exertion, his hair sticks up at the sides from where he has tugged at it, his chest is mottled with arousal, and his eyes are so dilated that his pupils almost eclipse everything else. 

"It's alright, my ridiculous gorgeous man. I've got you now."

John strokes Sherlock several times before wrapping his tongue around the head of Sherlock's cock. His tongue bursts with the sharp tang of salt and John moans. He bloody loves this. He laps at the slit and slides his fist slowly, setting a torturous pace. After several moments of savoring, John rises up on his knees, tilts his head back, and takes Sherlock completely into his throat. He sucks hard, holding Sherlock's thrusting hips at bay. The broken moaning and desperate scraping of Sherlock's errant fingers along his scalp send pulses of pleasure shooting straight to John's cock. With his free hand, John pumps himself in time to Sherlock's thrusts. 

Soon, they are both close. John can hear himself moaning, vibrating around Sherlock's long, hard cock. Sherlock's knees buckle and he pushes urgently against John's head as a fresh wave of pre-come drips down John's throat. Sherlock is nearly there. John pumps himself faster as he slips a finger back along Sherlock's perineum.

Sherlock keens and his body pulls taut before he bends almost in half, John's mouth on his cock may be the only thing holding him up. John swallows every last pulse and feels the beginnings of his own orgasm.

Sherlock sinks to his knees and presses John's face into his neck, cradling the smaller man against his body as they ride out the aftershocks. Eventually, John pulls back. He sweeps a few damp curls off of Sherlock's forehead and grins cockily up at him.

"We're both naked," John giggles. "In the middle of our sitting room. Where Mrs. Hudson brings us tea in the morning."

He is almost breathless with laughing now. 

"Obvious."

"Shut up, you berk!"

John slaps playfully at Sherlock's arm. 

"Come on time to get up."

He helps Sherlock to his feet and slides the dressing gown back up his shoulders. He pulls the man into one last, lingering kiss before swatting his arse.

"Go and get dressed." 


End file.
